VII
Within Temptation
(Part 2)
:::
April 29th, 2016: The Wayne Gala
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" a velvety voice sounded from behind her, in an accent almost as thick as her own and when Diana turned around, she caught the same intensity that was there in the words that had been uttered.
Diana parted her lips.
She took in the sight before her with heedful eyes, from the Junoesque figure down to the Grecian sandals. The woman's bright eyes sparkled like gems, and if one looked closely enough the hint of a tiny grimace peaked at the corners of her pretty pink mouth. Diana almost blanched at the woman's stunning height, she was so startlingly tall that it threw Diana of balance the moment she turned around, but Diana knew that she herself could hold a candle to this woman before her, because as uncanny as it was she stood at the same height.
Diana swallowed soundly, her eyes squinting into the darkness.
It was Themysciran Queen, the one that Bruce Wayne had introduced to the gala earlier that evening.
How strange, Diana thought fleetingly, she straightened herself out lifting her chin in a mark of dignified reverence. "Your Majesty . . . this is a pleasant surprise." she stated, shooting the woman a hesitant smile.
It was not returned.
The Queen glanced back at her, pale-blue eyes that seemed to go through Diana's very soul almost cutting her down. Diana stood stationed to her spot, she regarded the monarch curiously.
The Queen blinked, then cleared her throat. "I apologize . . ." she said airily. "I didn't intend to startle you."
But the words came from somewhere far away, and for a moment Diana didn't know exactly if she was dreaming or if she was awake. Diana didn't recognize the sensation, it was like the blood was forcing itself to rush under her skin - a foreign concept to someone of her calibre - and she felt oddly nostalgic.
Those eyes.
Diana's own eyes fell closed, and she seemed to sway on her feet, she was almost certain she would swoon when she felt a firm grip on her arms. "Young woman . . ." came that voice again, snapping her out of her reverie. "Are you well?"
Diana blinked, shaking her head, she shifted, gradually coming back to herself. "Pardon?"
Hippolyta eyed her carefully. "I didn't intend to startle you." she repeated after a moment, patiently awaiting the young woman's descent into tranquility. Diana blinked, her cheeks flushing scarlet almost immediately. She drew in a breath, composing herself. "Quite the contrary, your grace."
Hippolyta released Diana's arms, taking an easy step backward. "It appears your thoughts were elsewhere."
Diana swallowed, trying to find an ounce of that formidable countenance. She took in a careful breath, and then another. "It appears so." she finally commented. "Forgive me, Your grace. That must have seemed incredibly rude."
"It is quite alright . . ." The Queen admonished.
Diana nodded, then shook her head, desperate to regain her focus. An awkward pause reigned, a reminder that she was a clueless innocent. The Queen watched on cynically, then moved to stand beside her. She faced away from Diana, watching as the street lamps flickered and illuminated the city bustle below, but Diana could only see shadows on her face, darkness crawling over her tight jaw.
"The cold does not bother you?" Hippolyta pointed out, her voice breaking the eerie silence around them. Her tone wasn't condescending, but honestly curious.
"No . . ." Diana stated, "I find it quite -
"Fascinating . . ."
Diana took a breath, glancing at Hippolyta in fascination, but The sovereign's face gave nothing away. "Yes."
Hippolyta straightened, considerably. "Forgive me for asking, but what pray tell is one such as yourself doing outside at this hour?" she questioned. "The gala is quite eventful . . . this brittle night is unmerciful."
Diana pursed her lips, out here on the balcony, draped in the shadow of a faultless night, there was no crippling paranoia, no preserved designations. She could almost forget the permanent tension that had built in her bones. "I'm taking a rain check." Diana affirmed, her voice distant, eyes vacant. "I think I'll skip the formalities."
At this, The Queen raised a fair eyebrow. "A rain what?"
Diana blinked, unmoved. "It's a classic idiom." she deadpanned. "Foolish, really."
"Seeking solace, then?"
Diana tensed, immediately, Clark Kent flooded her mind. A day prior they'd been back at Birch Coffee, perched in the same spot where he'd first touched her. He'd been sitting across from her, gazing back at her like there was nothing else in the world. Diana had never been looked at that way. There had always been something else - priorities and moral influence.
Statistics.
But Clark was entranced. On impulse her eyes found the two glass doors that would shepherd her back into the benefit and she swallowed, her posture faltering for a moment before she managed to glance back at The Queen. "Yes." she murmured, calming her tone. "Something like that."
Hippolyta marveled at the words, her lips pressed together tightly as she tested it out. "A rain check." she mirrored. "Now I really have heard everything."
Diana bit the inside of her cheek. "This world . . ." she trailed off, absently. "It is one confounding mystery." Her own words had her brows furrowing, Diana didn't even know this woman and yet her internal opinions were surging freely from her mouth.
"Indeed." The Queen agreed. "I must confess that I myself was a little skeptical about entering the world of man. As an Ambassador of Themysciran Embassy and a reigning monarch it is a sacred duty of mine to defend all aspects of The Gods creations . . . even if they do not deserve it."
Diana nodded, trying to shake a surge of unorthodoxed curiosity. "And that is your mission?"
The Ambassador's eyes went vacant, her expression taking on a sudden intensity as she parted her lips, let out a breath. "By the unity of two worlds I can only hope that my efforts are enough. Eons ago, when time was new and all of history was still a dream, The Gods knew that one day a great evil would return to finish their mission." she explained. "An endless war, where mankind would finally destroy themselves and us with them. A weapon was granted, one powerful enough to kill a god."
Diana stood, listening carefully, hanging onto every word as if they were engaging in some magnanimous tête-à-tête. Which for some strange reason appeared to be the case.
"Centuries ago this weapon was lost to us." Hippolyta continued. "I have come to this land to retrieve it."
First came a wild desire to scoff, a great surge of uproarious anticlimax; then she glanced at the Queen's solemn expression. This woman was serious, and Diana knew that she of all people couldn't be surprised, take her for example - A kindred soul, a creature alone in this fiendish world with no recollection of her history. It almost reminded Diana of herself.
The only difference was that this Queen knew of her heritage, was certain of her decree.
"That is a beautiful story, Your Majesty." she said, in a voice that she herself didn't recognize.
"It is not a story, girl." Hippolyta admonished, her voice suddenly sharp, almost determined. "It is history, my people's history."
The words made Diana falter, if only for a moment. "I didn't intend to offend - "
"You didn't."
"I - "
"What is your name, child?" Hippolyta cut in, Diana frowned, hating to be ignored and detesting being questioned. She dug her nails into her palms and narrowed her eyes. She stared at the woman for a moment that seemed to last forever, then poised herself, brushed her hair back with the fingers of an eternal perfectionist.
"Diana." she replied. "Diana Prince."
The Queen's lips twitched up slightly, the warmest expression she'd seen on her face yet. "Diana." the word rolled off her tongue, "The Roman Goddess of the moon and hunt."
Diana's throat dried. "I must say goodnight."
"Miss Prince." Hippolyta called out. "That talisman on your finger, might I ask how it came to be in your possession?"
Diana could barely breath - the winds had to shift sometime, she supposed - she glanced down, toying with the ruby ring resting snugly around her dainty finger and she cleared her throat, wondering which of the hundreds of psychological tricks this one was. Finally she let a bit of the truth escape, her eyes careful as she spoke. "I have had it for as long as I can remember."
The Queen seemed to eye her carefully.
"It is quite a thing . . . timeless, beautiful . . ." Hippolyta trailed off, holding her breath. "Make sure you are worthy of it."
Diana lost in the moment, could only manage a quick nod, she watched as Hippolyta pulled something from her clutch, a gold card with crystal detail, a telephone number drawn out in cursive.
"This is the number for my secretary Julia Kapatelis," Hippolyta said. "I have quite enjoyed your company tonight, Miss Prince. I would very much like it if we could do this again in the future."
Diana almost recoiled, but she offered up a tiny beam, her own smile betraying the confusion she felt. She straightened, took the card from The Queen's outstretched hand with a hint of apprehension. Diana realized that she'd temporarily forgotten herself. "Good night, Your Highness." she said, in that opulent way of hers.
"Good night, Diana." Hippolyta replied. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."
Diana shot her one last queer look before backing away, almost frowning at the sudden queasiness unfurling in her stomach. Perhaps some moments were better left silent. After all this night had seemed to harbor a rather unexpected turn of events - it had actually come as quite a shock to her - but as Diana Prince descended back into the sparkling pageantry of Bruce Wayne's annual gala not even she could help but wonder about Themysciran Queen.
Maybe this benefit wasn't as doomed as it seemed.
Hippolyta tightened her lips, the smile dropping from her face as she watched Diana disappear behind the silk curtains.
Gaea, it was just as she had feared, perhaps even worse. Hermes had told her of the initial lapse in memory and Hippolyta was no fool, even with her memories Diana still wouldn't of known who she was - but that aside what had just transpired here had managed to rattle the Amazon Queen. Diana had been apart of her, she'd come from her, and Zeus had collected her long before Hippolyta could teach her how to love, how to feel the things that other people do. Hippolyta had shouldered that guilt for millenniums, the pain forever written in her bones.
Zeus had only ever granted Hippolyta one thing, and that had been naming the child. It had been right then and there in her mind that Hippolyta had christened her Diana, the only name she had known elegant enough for such a peerless creature.
It had seemed to be of a mysterious work of chance.
That there . . . standing regally before her had been her child, the baby daughter that once upon a time Hippolyta had nestled close to her breast. Only it wasn't, it was a soldier of chaos, capable of things only a true monster could commit, tainted by one man's influence.
Yes, Hippolyta had been sending Phillipus to watch Diana for a while now - she knew all about Diana's work with MetaHuman affairs, of the moral influence that Alexander Luthor held over her daughter. The man had done his work well, for Diana didn't know of any father, mother or Gods for that matter.
The child didn't even know what she was.
Hippolyta would kill Luthor for this, but first she would save her daughter and bring forth the weapon. The planets were aligning, a great evil was on the rise and Olympus called.
Time was steadily coming to the end of it's rope.
:::
Diana stepped back into the tumult that was Bruce Wayne's benefit, suddenly exhausted. Neck damp with the scent of Lavender Lumé (angels and decadence, The shopkeeper had called it), Her feet arched inside of her pink slippers and she found herself shuffling over to a quiet spot in the room. Nails prickled her skin as she shrank back, her mind dragging up the conversation she'd just had a few minutes prior.
Those eyes.
Diana massaged her temples. Get it together Diana, she told herself. She swallowed, shaking her head a fraction of an inch before straightening herself out, Diana was trying extremely hard not to think about it. She looked out at the collection of mingling couples. The atmosphere in the room was electric, fitted up with official, commonplace elegance. Beautiful men and women stood whimsically, draped in expensive shawls and fur coats.
They toyed with icy sparklers and mingled with scrambling servers before collecting their drinks.
Diana didn't understand it one bit.
She let out a breath through her nose, pretending to be captivated by the crystal chandelier, presenting spectacularly from the ceiling - even if she had seen a dozen others like it. Diana knew that it was a fake. She was actually considering making a break for it when a voice whispered down her ear. "Spectacular, isn't it?"
Diana jumped, eyes widening as she turned towards the voice. Bruce Wayne, the man of the hour stood beside her, glass of brandy clutched firmly in one hand. His eyes were clever and taunting, but his smile was kind. He was the kind of handsome that was much too dark to be good for you.
A woman like Diana was much too adept for that.
Diana knew all about him, had memorized a full page spread of him along with the other members of the JLA. The Bat of Gotham. She regarded him, alerted by the calculated look in his eyes, the dark hair pressed slickly back atop his head. Apparently, this man had a knack for agility, she hadn't even sensed his presence. Diana poised herself, suddenly on edge, Bruce Wayne was going to be a problem, too.
"Grand." Diana said swiftly, not missing a beat.
It was unintentional pleasantry.
Bruce raised his glass to his lips, he sipped it leisurely, taking a hearty gulp before commenting rather dryly. "It's a fake."
Diana almost scoffed. "I am quite aware of that."
Bruce raised a dark eyebrow. "Smart girl," he observed. "Not just a pretty face, then."
"Does that surprise you?"
"Should it?" Bruce challenged.
Diana pressed her lips together, choosing not to respond. The man smiled, took it upon himself to creep closer. "I don't think we've been formerly introduced." he said, moving to stand in front of her, hand reaching out to shake hers. The trademark Wayne heirloom glinting up at her. "Bruce Wayne."
Diana forced a smile, taking his hand. "Diana Prince."
"Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Miss Prince." Diana held Bruce's gaze as he dipped his head to brush a chaste peck against her knuckles, eyes sparkling under the dewy glow of the chandeliers. He grinned at her, and her chest seized in both anger and wariness, she pried her gaze away from his smug, sure expression.
"Charmed, Mr Wayne." Diana said, her tone crisp.
"Please . . ." he paused, for effect. "Call me Bruce."
Diana decided that she would do not such thing, she wondered when he would initially drop the act, how eyes could darken to pitch black in just one second.
"You seem distracted." Bruce rasped, his voice toneless, his eyes devilish as they trapped her. But Diana's eyes remained cold and dead when she stared back at him, she was in no mood for his antics. Bruce watched her, a man without the burden of a soul. His counter plan seemed to be falling into place, and he had the Luthor girl right where wanted her.
Diana pursed her lips, murmured. "You're an observant one, aren't you?"
"You're transparent."
She threw him a sharp look when she said, "Impeccable detective work, Mr Wayne."
"Of Course, Miss Prince." Bruce drawled. "Besides, there's something alluring about an angel drawn to the dark side."
Diana swallowed, glancing down at the pink rosebuds on her slippers. "Or a devil redeemed."
The man straightened with feigned curiosity. "You know your idioms."
Diana's head whipped up at this, she was so close to him now that she could smell the man's expensive cologne - Clive Christian No 1 and apples soaked in ashes - could see the dents in his milky white skin. Battle scars, Diana realized, she forced herself to calm down, quelled down the urge to decapitate Bruce Wayne right in the middle of the gala. "Literary is a fondness of mine."
"Apparently." he remarked.
"It appears arrogance is one of yours."
Bruce didn't even flinch. "It doesn't bother you?" he asked, swiping a hand over his jaw. "Most women would leap straight to debauchery."
"Oh . . ." she breathed, a glint sparkling in her eyes. "I don't think you've ever known a woman like me."
Bruce didn't react, instead he glanced around the ballroom. "It makes a man wonder . . . how a woman like you can be left alone." he said, shifting so that he could press that much closer to her. "You look stunning if it isn't obvious."
"Thank you." Diana whispered, despite herself.
"A simple acknowledgement of the truth." He said.
Diana almost frowned, but managed to keep face, deciding to play along. She had to give it to him, Bruce Wayne was smart, but she was smarter. "I must confess that you look rather dashing yourself."
Bruce's mouth twitched, before lifting into the faintest of smiles. He said, eyes shining. "Can I offer you a drink?"
Diana almost declined, but something whispered down her ear that this was some sort of test. She narrowed her eyes, challenge accepted. Diana gave Bruce an appreciative smile and nodded her acceptance, giving the room a once over as Bruce motioned for a waiter, a stout looking young woman with a golden smile, before collecting a single glass of champagne from the silver tray. Diana took the chalice with a careful nod of the head, mumbling her thanks before taking a careful sip.
Bruce on the other hand watched her keenly, itching for a reaction. He had laced that specific glass with Phoenix ash earlier that night, a concentrated poison that was lethal to rogue liabilities. His eyes widened, and he waited patiently for the moment that she'd keel over and start to gag on air.
It never came.
Bruce felt his rage blaze to life like hot smoke. He sucked down a livid gulp from his own glass, wincing as the brandy burned a scorching trail of fire down his throat, then cracked down his glass on the bar behind them.
Diana raised a brow. "Heavy handed?"
Bruce snickered, but nothing was really all that funny. "You have no idea."
"Care to test that theory?" she retorted.
"Careful." Bruce said, dangerously. "Sounds like a challenge."
Diana could barely stomach that look on his face. He was completely unreadable, incomprehensible, a lock without a key in sight. Diana hated it, and she hated him. She smiled at him, sickly sweet. "Who says it wasn't."
Bruce straightened, catching the rage before it fled. "You're confident." he drawled, quickly deciding on another tactic. "I like that in a woman."
As he said this Diana caught sight of Clark over Bruce's shoulder, he stood amongst the sea of his associates looking sheepish as he clutched his own drink. Diana frowned, watched as Miss Lane squeezed his shoulder. "Is that so?" she breathed distractedly, watching them all laugh at something the little red head said.
"It is." Bruce confirmed, his expression smooth.
"What else do you like in a woman?" she asked, flicking a loose tendril back to catch another glance at the cluster of reporters. Already Clark had caught her glance, always finding no matter where she went. Diana's throat dried, she raised her glass to her suddenly parched lips, and slipped out her tongue, her eyes closing as the fizzing substance poured into her mouth.
Bruce replied, with the charm of a saint. "Good sex."
Diana's eyes snapped open to gape at Bruce, the champagne shot down her throat in a painful lump and it was a wonder that she didn't choke on her drink. She bit the inside of her cheek, her temper flaring as she looked up at the man before her. Gods! Diana let out a flustered breath, the words made her falter, if only for a moment, but she recovered with the speed of a champ, arching a fine dark brow and mustering up as much flirtation as she could manage. Somehow, she found her voice, found the bit of Luthor that had influenced her. "I was being existential."
"I was being literal." Bruce replied, but her flush was enough of a response. "Check mate."
"You make a fantastic point." Diana deadpanned, placing her unfinished drink on the bar next to Bruce's empty glass.
"I'm Bruce Wayne." he said by way of explanation, an endearing smoulder twisting on his features, he offered her his hand. "Grace us with a dance."
Diana startled, her composure almost faltering again. "I -"
"Come on," Bruce said, a lethal twinkle in his stony eyes. "I dare you."
Diana glanced at his hand, then at him. But said nothing, usually this would be the point when she would disappear, when she'd whack across a quick text to Luthor to inform him of her discoveries. She swallowed, unused to being so out of touch with her instincts, bracing herself as she took Bruce's outstretched hand.
She glanced around, taking a cautious step forward then followed where Bruce Wayne tread.
:::
Angels often came in rare forms.
And tonight one happened to be dressed in wild orchid. The two glided through the room as if they were some scandalous, hot couple residing on Park Avenue. His hand resting on her lower back, his lips brushing her ear. Clark's grip on his glass tightened, to the point where he thought he would break it and he watched on, seething, as the two of them met in the middle of the ballroom, two dark souls reflecting everything that he was not.
Clark hated it.
He watched as Bruce drew Diana against him, and just knew that it would make tomorrows headlines, which made his blood boil even more than he thought possible for someone with his Kryptonian DNA. Clark couldn't look away. He lingered by his fellow workmates, engaging in mindless small talk as he eavesdropped on her conversation with Bruce, he frowned at a particular comment, teeth grinding in a way that Martha Kent would've chided him for. Clark was only half aware of Lois barking at an intoxicated Jimmy Olsen - she was completely preoccupied - which was a good thing, he supposed. She didn't catch the silent stare down that he and Diana were partaking in from across the room.
Lois glared at Jimmy, arms crossed, totally pissed off.
"I only had - " Jimmy raised his fingers, frowning as he silently counted. "I only had one drink." Jimmy held up three fingers as he said it, and Lois rolled her eyes, peeved by the vacant look in his eyes, the auburn hair damp on his forehead. "Tonight is the night, Lollipop. Tonight is . . . this is it." He was nearly incoherent as he pumped his fist in the air, sloppily smiling down at Lois.
"Tonight?" Lois snapped. "Jimmy you're supposed to be scooping a story, not . . . dammit." she shook her head in irritation. "Listen, Olsen. You're going to sober up now. I'm not going to play your designated babysitter all night. Honestly, you sound like a tipsy school girl."
"You're so sweet, Lollipop." Jimmy laughed, stroking her cheek. Lois slapped his hand away, which only encouraged him to squeeze the tip of her nose. Lois seethed, slapping him again and giving a sharp and impatient twist to his wrist.
"Stop it, or I'll hurt you." Lois hissed, exasperated. "This is unprofessional, you're ruining my reputation. Pull yourself together, Olsen."
Jimmy grinned, looking much like a young boy as he squished Lois's cheeks together "Yes, Captain Lane." Lois slid his hands from her face, propping him against a nearby table for support. She peered around the room, straightening her neck to get rid of the creak in it, then sighed glancing at Clark. He seemed to be looking at something in the crowd, something that had garnered his undivided attention.
Lois furrowed her brows, her eyes following Clark's line of fire, she narrowed her eyes.
Of course, she mused dryly, The Agent.
She eyed Miss Congeniality and her elegant demeanor for a moment, the unruly hair-do, the rosy lipstick, the kind of beauty that was so dark, yet so endearing that it seemed to be the fancy of every man in the room tonight, even a few women, then looked down at herself. The white oxford shirt she sported, contrasting against the plain black suit jacket and matching pencil skirt she wore, tight against her curves.
For the first time in her life, jealousy struck her.
Lois's cheeks flushed in irritation. "Smallville." she hissed, eyes squinted as she regarded him. "You're eyes look strange."
Clark's cheeks reddened, and he turned from her, hands nudging aside his glasses to rub frantically at his eyes. "Darn it." he mumbled, "I think there's . . . uh . . . something in my eyes." he blinked profusely before turning back to her with an awkward laugh, then brushed his palm up the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Lois . . . what were you saying?"
Lois rolled her eyes, feeding herself a Belgium truffle. "Get your head out of the clouds, Smallville." she said, "I need you to scoop a story with Agent Prince and Mr Wayne over there." she countered, pointing casually toward the golden couple.
Clark tensed. "What?"
Lois reacted like a cat out for cream. "Playboy billionaire meets American beauty queen. Please, it's perfect." she continued, keeping her eyes on Clark. "I reckon Wayne has his eye on that one."
"Lois, wouldn't you be more suited to - " Clark began, but Lois cut him off seamlessly, not taking no for an answer.
"Don't be daft, Smallville" she snorted, with brutal finality in her words. "You're doing it."
"Lois, I can't . . ."
Lois frowned, clearly not seeing the problem. "You have too, Smallville." she said, "We both know how Perry is. We have to strike while the iron's hot."
There was nothing that could be said, telling Lois that he felt miserable watching Bruce sweep Diana off her feet wasn't an option that sounded feasible. "Lois . . ." he warned, "No."
"Their not going to bite you, Smallville." Lois challenged.
Clark tightened his lips, and his expression darkened to a glare that was nearly lethal. It must've truly been a sight to behold, the mild mannered Clark Kent - comedy gold to the vultures of The Daily Planet - once again outmatched by the sharp tongue of one infuriating Lois Lane.
Lois started to laugh and Clark hated it. It was the ultimate insult, the kind that meant Lois was laughing at you, rarely with you. "Relax, Smallville." she said, easily setting the bait for him, her smile was dazzling. "It's just another scoop, right?"
Clark straightened, suddenly hit with the urge to escape. "Right."
Lois nodded at his words, seemingly satisfied. "Get the story, Smallville." she breathed. "And try not to fall all over Agent Prince while your at it."
Clark smiled wryly, he knew what Lois was doing. They had danced this dance before, three years ago to be exact, the only difference was that he had been in the suit. "Roger that, Lois."
Miffed, Lois turned away, finding James Callahan and linking her arm through his before heading back into the sea of people, already sniffing out her next story. Clark let out a long breath, he glanced briefly at Cat Grant, whose excitement was plastered all over her cheeky features. Rao, she was like Jimmy in female form, he shook his head eyes trailing back to the sight that was Diana Prince locked firmly in the embrace of Bruce Wayne, his best friend and long standing comrade.
Apparently the Bruce Wayne charm wasn't as rusty as he'd thought, unlike the knife in his back.
Betrayal had never tasted so tart.
Clark dropped his glass onto an empty tray resting on the small table beside him, two more seconds and he was almost certain that it would have shattered under his grip. Jimmy who had remained suspiciously silent throughout the whole ordeal finally piped up. "Oh no . . ." the red head murmured, with a hint of mirth. "I've seen that look before, CK."
Clark let out an impatient breath. "What are you talking about, Jim?"
Jimmy looked at Clark knowingly. "You've got it . . . bad."
Clark scoffed, not appreciating Jimmy's crypticness in the slightest. "You're drunk, Jimmy."
Jimmy let slip an excitable chuckle. "But I'm right."
"I don't even know her." Clark said on a sharp breath, repeating Diana's livid words from earlier that night.
Jimmy regarded Clark through bright eyes, nudged the crook of his elbow with his own "If I were you . . . I'd go and get my girl." he paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "Before somebody else does."
Clark's eyes widened.
It was the most rational thing that Jimmy Olsen had said all night, perhaps even in his life and Clark found himself momentarily stunned at the smaller man's sudden maturity. Jimmy gave him a toothy grin and then the Jimmy that Clark knew and worked with was back, he snatched up a tall glass of Château Lafite from a passing waiter, swallowing it down in one satisfied gulp.
Clark pondered over Jimmy's novel choice of words until it seemed to seep into his skin. Was Jimmy right? Clark licked his lips, trying to rationalize with himself but he came up short. It was in that moment, in that timeless suspended second that Clark knew that he was. He heard the slow melody of a love song begin, felt his stomach do an odd twist when Diana caught his eyes again from the center of the room.
He wanted her . . . bad.
:::
The Wayne Gala made Diana nostalgic.
It was an inevitable feeling, dropping upon her as Bruce Wayne led her through the sea of elegant dresses, slightly tipsy chaperones, and hushed conversations. Diana felt a glow on her cheeks as Bruce admired her pink dress, the way it pulled tight at the bodice and swished above her feet. She had to admit that he looked rather dashing at her side, wearing a nicer tux than most of the other men in the room. The entire gala was aware of them, gravitating towards the pair like moths to a flame, they were easily the two most beautiful people in the room.
Harp strings battled soft ballads as waiters swished through the crowd with champagne poppers and flutes of pink liquid. Moonlight poured into the room from the balcony windows, flooding the ballroom in a haze of glistening white. As Bruce whispered to her, Diana's mind conjured up the image of hair like tarnished gold, eyes as warm as the sun. She found herself searching the room, looking for a flash of jasmine amongst the crowd, but the woman from the balcony was no where to be seen. Diana was starting to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.
"You're a sight to behold, Miss Prince." Bruce murmured. "It's quite . . . distracting."
Diana licked her lips as he said it, she caught Clark's eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. He was stood with that red haired man, Jimmy Olsen she had discovered his name was, sipping from a glass of punch as he stared back at her. There was something inexplicable in his eyes. Could he hear what Bruce was saying to her?
It was all Diana could do not to stare.
Her cheeks threatened to bleed red and she pasted on a flirtatious smile before glancing back to Bruce, one that looked nothing like the one from before. "Is flattery the equivalence of debauchery in your books, Mr Wayne?"
"Am I that obvious?" Bruce questioned, drawing her from him before twirling her around in a pleasant spin.
Diana swallowed, forced herself to breath as he spun her back to him with one deft tug. "Yes."
"Interesting." Bruce replied, "You don't find it obtuse at all?" His stare held firm, his grip on her even firmer. Diana forced a tiny smile, fully aware that camera's were flashing around the room, it appeared that she and the knight of darkness were causing quite the spectacle.
"Please." Diana said, temporarily removing a hand from his shoulders to swipe at a raven lock that had fallen into her face. "I'm not offended by your lack of finesse."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised."
"I'm not sure that I follow, Mr Wayne."
Bruce shook his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong. But you're here representing DOMA, am I correct?"
Diana tensed, this man was treading on dangerous territory. "Yes." she breathed, "I was requested to attend as sole representative tonight."
"Married to the job." Bruce acknowledged, but the charm was gone from his face, and his tone was dead. "It must be quite demanding. I take it you work quite closely with Mr Luthor."
"Mr Luthor is very a busy man, Mr Wayne . . ." Diana trailed off, feigning nonchalance. "Rarely anyone at DOMA gets to see him."
"Pity that," Bruce's tone had changed. "It must make your job quite difficult."
Diana smiled, innocently. "Not in the slightest, Mr Wayne. Besides, you don't send a man to do a woman's job."
Bruce smirked, a bitter grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If that's your story."
Diana chose to ignore him.
"I have to say that I'm quite impressed." Bruce whispered, catching her lower back with one hand, dipping her low until her hair almost brushed the floor. She lost her breath when he pulled her up again, swaying to the music. His grip on her tightened, "The whole babe in the woods façade, it makes sense why they would send you."
Diana regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Don't condescend me, Mr Wayne." she retorted. "I know things, I've seen things that many are completely oblivious too. You on the other hand -" She stopped, preparing for the blow. "Are just an unavoidable inconvenience."
Something changed in Bruce then. Even before she'd been acquainted with this man Diana had noticed that he'd had this slightly unhinged look to him. But now, his cheeks flared red, his eyes widened, and the purple vein at the left of his forehead bulged beneath his skin.
Diana instinctively raised her chin, facing his blazing gaze dead on. The tight grip that he'd had on her hand found it's way to her arm, but she didn't even flinch. Her features crinkled into a heavy frown, and her skin burned a pink so hot that she thought she might combust. This man had three seconds, three seconds before she went old fashioned on him. "I think you've had a bit to many, Mr Wayne." she sniffed, in a voice void of any emotion.
Three.
Bruce's eyes sparkled. "It appears so."
Two.
"Remove your hand, Mr Wayne." Diana said, glancing down at his hand in warning. "Before I break it."
It was when Bruce ducked his head to whisper whatever outrageous thing lay next that she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Bruce grinned before drawing away, Diana turned to see Clark standing before her, mischief taunting his wounded eyes.
Her eyes narrowed. "You again."
Clark regarded her expression for a moment, fighting the smile starting on his lips. "Afraid so."
Diana frowned at him, irritated by his taunting, she let out a shallow breath, fighting to grasp her temper before it detonated in a magnificent show of spontaneous combustion. In truth she was barely holding it together. That bastard, he was onto them. She had to get away, had to tell Luthor before the control fled so far from her grasp that it'd be too late.
Bruce looked at Clark. "Mr Kent, I figured your kind would be sniffing around here."
Clark nodded, keeping his eyes on Diana as he answered. "Right you were, Mr Wayne."
Bruce's gaze remained cool, entertained by what was unravelling before him. "I expected no less." he said, drily. "Is there something you wanted?"
"A dance." Clark replied, he glanced at Bruce. "Can you spare her for a moment, Mr Wayne?"
"She's all yours." Bruce smirked. "It was a pleasure, Miss Prince."
Diana stilled when he grabbed her hand, taking it gingerly and raising it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his facade slipping for a moment as he bowed his head. When he straightened, they both stared at each other, and Diana saw something in his eyes that she didn't like. She could barely manage an icy glare before Clark grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face him. She gasped as her chest brushed his with an intimacy she couldn't quite grasp.
"That's better." Clark drawled.
Diana swallowed when his hand found hers, fingers snaking though her own before curling to grasp her hand tightly, she let out a sharp breath. "Don't." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "We've discussed this."
"Relax, Prince." Clark teased, half amused, mostly terrified, but his steady gaze wouldn't betray him. Clark glanced down at her, found that he had a hard time breathing, overwhelmed not by the beauty of the room, but of the one stood before him. He sighed, fingers spreading at her lower back. "I've been told I need to interview you."
Diana licked her lips. "Commence."
"Diana, I - "
"Clark." she warned.
Clark shook his head, incredulous. "So is that your plan . . ." he murmured under his breath, so that only she could hear. "You're just going to ignore this."
Diana let out a breathy little laugh, one that lacked the humor. "Give the boy a prize."
"You don't need to do that, Prince."
Diana blinked. "Do what?"
"Pretend."
"Who said anything about pretending."
"Diana."
Diana looked up, choking on her response. A terrifying tenderness crept against her, almost inside her, except that she fought it fiercely. He was clearly amused by her dumbstruck expression, and she struggled to get a hold of herself. There was something about the way he emphasized her name that made Diana lose her focus, forcing her to blink again. "The Interview, Mr Kent." she managed to reply, feeling panic rise in the chest. "You're on the clock."
Clark's jaw clenched, peeved at her hostile reaction. "You're deflecting."
Diana arched a brow. "Is that so?"
"Stop avoiding the subject." Clark breathed, his head ducking right beside hers.
The whisper washed against her skin, igniting her flesh as she took in the words. "You can't avoid something if it isn't there to begin with." Diana said, tired of this script.
"Your so stubborn," Clark chided, his breath hot on her cheek. "But you can't deny it, Diana." He squeezed her fingers through his, the touch was enough to give Diana the same butterflies she'd had in her stomach since that first interview at Birch, when things were easier and her judgement wasn't being clouded. Clark smiled, hearing her heart flutter. "There's a connection between us."
Diana bit down on her lip and forced herself to look past his shoulder. Clark Kent was too beautiful, too tragic to hold in with a simple glance. If she looked for too long, she might just break. But maybe that was what he wanted. She needed to focus, she braced herself, heat spreading throughout her stomach. "Is that what you think?"
Clark raised his head to look at her, his eyes, very blue behind the glasses, rested on her with a look of firm determination. "That's what I know." he said, firmly. "Lies of omission can only get you so far, Diana."
The lights from the chandelier trickled down the strands of her hair and Clark watched as her cheeks flashed red, relishing in it. He watched the corner of her lips quiver now as if the mere movement was the most fascinating thing in the world. He had once trained his body to be in tune with the human specimen, most notably female ones. It had been a tedious thing he'd learnt as a child in order to make sure that he wouldn't hurt anyone.
The words made Diana waver, but she held firm, a wild soul that could not be stopped until she found what she was looking for and, even then, it was not enough. Diana shook her head, adamantly. "You're being foolish." she bit back, the nape of her neck going flush.
Clark's eyes were earnest. "You're afraid."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"Not of me, Diana." Clark continued, treading with caution. "Of yourself."
Diana recoiled as if she'd just been slapped.
Her gaze hardened, and Clark sighed. Every step forward was five steps back. He'd pulled at a rip at Birch, but she was quick to seam it back up before he could see inside. His words had drawn a weakness in her, and she was back to being the cold-hearted queen who'd walked into his office nearly a month ago.
A sharp laugh escaped her throat, one of disbelief, one to mask the hurt. "And what would you know of it?" she seethed, extricating herself from his grasp. "You're just a witless reporter."
This time Clark's face darkened.
Clark held her gaze so fiercely that she thought he might burn her with his stare. "Hitting below the belt, Diana." he said, a sharp twist in his tone. He held one wrist, keeping her in place, taking care not to hurt her with his true strength.
"Take your interview, Mr Kent." Diana repeated, her eyes wild.
"You're running away, Diana." Clark accused, refusing to back down. "Stop lying to yourself."
Diana let out an exasperated breath, tucking a black strand of hair behind her ear. "You have such a rose tinted view of this world." she hissed, matching his frustration, toxic tangling with venom until it faded to dust. "You speak to me of fear, when perhaps you're the one who should be holding up a mirror to them self."
Clark's thick brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned, but Diana simply shook her head, frustrating him beyond belief.
She tightened her lips. "Enough, Clark."
"Diana - "
"Enough." Diana said, almost yelling. Those within earshot glanced around from their mingling, nudged at each other to stare at the heated pair in the centre of the ballroom. Diana's face flushed, her lips came together, and she lowered her voice. "You're causing speculation." she whispered, and then she was gone, her hips swaying as she sidled through the crowd, appraised by every single person she passed by.
Clark frowned, infuriated by her dismissal. And then he was moving from his place, chasing after her, forgetting all about his interview for tomorrows spread.
There was something about the way she pushed that made him pull and vice versa. He pushed through the crowds of Armani and Versace, nodding to a few other guests on his way, slipped his way through the kitchens at the back. He watched as Diana ducked into a side passageway, in between the main building and a backstreet takeout shop.
Clark took a breath before walking in behind her.
:::
"She threatened me." Bruce hissed, squeezing the com-link until his knuckles burned white. "J'onn, did you manage to get a read on her?"
J'onn sighed into the receiver. "I'm afraid not, my friend." he explained. "It was like something was blocking me. It is quite difficult to explain."
Bruce grit his teeth, his eyes falling shut as he tried to calmed himself down, as he swallowed down red-hot anger. "And Clark?"
"It is worse than I feared." he said softly, and Bruce could picture J'onn shaking his head now. "It appears that Superman is harboring intense feelings towards the weapon."
"Really, J'onn." Bruce seethed, "I didn't notice."
"Take it easy, Bruce." J'onn said, placidly. "I need you to tell me what happened."
"What do you think happened, J'onn." Bruce snapped, weaving his way through the cluster of bodies. He took a frustrated breath, and then another, his eyes roaming the crowd for a particular raven haired couple, they were no where to be seen, nothing had ever put Bruce's back up more. He narrowed his eyes, muttering to himself. "I can't see them."
"Bruce, what happened?" J'onn repeated.
"It didn't work." Bruce fumed, forcing himself to stay calm. "The phoenix ash, it had no effect on her."
J'onn didn't seem surprised. "I figured as much."
"Be more specific, J'onn."
"I don't think she's of this world."
Bruce halted in his tracks, a tight frown beginning to crease his brows. "You think she's an alien?"
"I'm not sure, my friend." J'onn replied. "But from what I could sense from her there was great power there. Almost, matching that of a Kryptonian."
Bruce cursed, tightening his lips. It was a cold anger, the kind that was unchecked. He pondered the idea. "How convenient." he murmured.
"What are you going do, my friend." J'onn asked firmly, his voice going as taut as it had ever been.
Bruce fell silent.
"Bruce." J'onn came again.
"I'm not sure yet, J'onn." Bruce rasped, his tone was morose. "But the others can't know about this, it stay between us until further notice. In the mean time, I need you to go and find Alfred, I'm shutting this down."
J'onn sounded worried. "And what of Kal?"
Bruce paused, letting out a ragged breath. "Collateral damage." he said, never one to beat around the bush, he pressed his lips together before promptly switching his com-link off altogether, eyes searching for his line of fire. He moved swiftly through the mass of satin beings, oblivious to the insignificant snobs who occupied the space.
But unbeknowst to Bruce one person lingered patiently, stationed off to the side of the ballroom. A tall man with overgrown blonde locks and glowing blue eyes, who had been watching the whole ordeal for the better part of the night. He was quaint looking, golden in the skin, and he had seen her. He raised his hand to the fruit of his ear, fingers searching for the button that would allow him purchase.
Mission Report: November 12th, 1918, came a voice down the line.
The man straightened, eyes empty as he whispered. "Цель расположена"
:::
In her fury, she was vaguely aware of Clark at her feet, following behind her. "Diana . . ."
"Leave me alone."
"Diana -"
"Leave me alone."
She didn't expect him to back off, and of course he didn't. Clark stepped in behind her, his tone brokering no argument. The words resounded in the alley, hitting the silence in a full-blown collision. It was eerily quiet, sans the burst of midtown traffic and street chatter. "What does that mean?" he persisted, braving a step towards her.
Diana stood with her back to him, her small fingers curled into tight fists. She let out a sharp, seething breath. "I didn't stutter, Clark."
"Dammit, Diana." Clark finally snapped, it was the first time she had heard Clark mad, and it was awful. "You're being irrational."
Diana let slip a terrifying laugh, one that flawlessly masked the inner panic that was broiling inside. "That's quite fabulous." she murmured coldly. "First you call me a coward and now you accuse me of being irrational. You really do have a way with words."
Clark stood his ground. "I'm curious, Diana." he replied, sharply. "Is it morality that you can't handle? You seemed to enjoy the company of Bruce Wayne all night."
"What?" Diana taunted, blue eyes gleaming fiercely. "Jealous."
Her words set Clark off, and he scoffed, shaking his head. Diana was pleased by his momentary panic. "Hardly."
Diana's heart gave an angry stutter, she crossed her arms, cocked one hip. "You're insufferable." she accused, furiously flicking her hair back. "You've been hounding me all night, Clark. It's pathetic."
Clark took a moment to really look at her, Diana was looking at him like she couldn't breath. He raised an eyebrow, "Feel better?"
Diana paused, narrowed her eyes. "Grow up."
"You only have two speeds don't you, Diana?" Clark shot back. "Fight or Flight, pity that you always seem to pick the later."
"How dare you." she hissed, shoving away from the wall, heels clicking as she got in his face. "You conceited -"
"- Arrogant, journalist." Clark finished for her, Diana flushed again, and the lovely glow remained on her cheeks. Clark's lips lifted, his eyes glinting like he wasn't holding back. "Admit it." It was a simple command but it was enough to fill Diana with a rush of horror.
Diana swallowed, she realized how close they were now, in the damp and dark corner of the alley. "Admit what?"
"That you feel it too." Clark murmured, his gaze suddenly intense. "You feel something for me."
A second passed, then another, that growing burn becoming impossible to bear when they were this close to one another. Diana shook her head, mouth parted and lips wet. "I don't feel anything."
"Liar." Clark whispered, wondering if she was going to relapse into another fit of breathless panic, wondering how he'd be able to escape that, until a chill spread over her features and her eyes blazed.
Diana practically drew steam from her ears. "Stop calling me that."
"What's the matter, Agent Prince . . ." Clark chaffed. "The truth too much for you?"
"Stop it, Clark."
Clark drew in a careful breath, knowing that his next words would send Diana over the edge for certain. But he needed her passionate rage, was desperate for the fiery drive that had captured him from the moment she'd first walked into The Daily Planet. Wanted her to feel something for him. Anything, that would confirm that this wasn't all some fictitious dream living inside his head.
"Cowardice, Diana." Clark breathed, his voice knifed with determination. "Perhaps, I was right after all."
The emotion drained from Diana's face, and then she was trembling, her fingers curled tighter if that was even possible.
Regret washed over Clark like it never had before.
She straightened, and her voice was absent as she said. "Then it's a good thing that your opinion is of no concern to me." She refused to look at him when she spoke again. "As apposed to you, I don't need the consent of others to define who I am. And that's why the two of us could never work." she said, her voice returning to that ice queen cold he could only remember from before they'd really known each other. "Ask me again why I could never want you."
Clark's jaw tightened, and he swallowed soundly. For the first time in his life, he was lost for words.
Diana shook her head at Clark's speechless expression. "Goodnight, Mr Kent."
And with that being said Diana moved to flee, but before she could escape him, Clark caught her wrist and held her fast. His lips descended onto hers, and Diana let out a small whimper as he caught her mouth with his, bowing her to him until every inch of her was touching him.
He stroked her like a feather, threw her like a stone. But it was beyond lust, beyond restrained curiosity. It was completion, understanding, a total apocalypse of the heart. His fingers tangled in her hair, cradling her head before manoeuvring her back against the wall, trapping her up between his chest and the frosted brick. One hand slid lower to span the expanse of her waist, and she realized that she'd never been touched so firmly - never with such clear purpose.
Clark forced his frustration onto her lips, a choked groan surfacing from the back of his throat, his tongue traced across her rosy lip gloss, forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue inside. It was so sensual, so innocent, that it nearly drove him to the brink of insanity.
Diana Prince was the sweetest torture he'd ever known.
Diana gasped, hands tightening on the lapels of his jacket. She was drowning in him, in the kind of way that was the worst way possible. In the smell of his cologne, in the feel of his body pressed firmly against hers. This was the kind of kiss that was dangerous, the kind that promised security, and ever lasting gratification. But the thrill of danger heightened every one of her senses, shot a high up to her brain as her lips pressed carnally against his. She let out a muffled moan against his lips, pulling him closer, but not close enough.
And then she panicked.
A wash of sobriety fell over Diana, and her eyes snapped open.
Without even thinking about it, Diana struck out at him, her nails raking his cheek and Clark's eyes widened as he jerked back in surprise, the air rushed from his lungs as he went sailing through the vicious cement of two brick building, his body colliding with something awful before coming to a screeching halt. The sound of people screaming assailed his ears, and Clark groaned under his breath, his teeth clenching as he rose to perch on his elbows.
A sharp pain shot up his back and clung to his spine, and Clark found himself flinching against the pain of being hit so hard.
The screams went higher and Clark shook his head, dazed, he sputtered and gasped, dark hair falling into his line of vision as he opened two bleary eyes to try and understand.
Diana was no where to be seen.
Author's Note: AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 7, so this chapter was a long time (and a lot of drama) coming. I'm crying, no, I really am. I feel like I've been working on this chapter for centuries, and words cannot describe how badly I feel for that. I hope many of you understand that I didn't want to let you guys down. Sometimes life just gets in the way, and I hope I was able to make up for that.
A lot of barriers are broken in this chapter, and when the dust settles, Clark and Diana will have to try and work their way through this one. It seems like a lot of people are after Diana, courtesy of Luthor of course. Now originally I was going to make Hippolyta spill the beans to Diana about her being her bio-mother but then I got thinking about how any normal person would react and it didn't seem realistic to just tell a complete stranger "oh hey, by the way I'm your mom."
Aside from that I think this is the longest chapter I have written yet, and it was very exciting to write as well as demanding.
What's your guess for this mysterious new face I've thrown into the mix?
Thoughts?
Next up will be Chapter 8: You're Strong.
Happy Holidays, everyone.